Chapter 3 - THE NAME SALVATORE BURIED
Tessa lowered the phone slowly.
Salvatore’s eyes stayed on her face.
She signed:
“Dany said your real name is in a ledger.”
His expression went completely blank.
That frightened her more than anger.
“What real name?”
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he locked the private-room door.
Then he signed:
“Call your brother again.”
She did.
No answer.
Again.
Voicemail.
Her chest tightened.
“I’m going to find him.”
Salvatore stepped in front of the door.
Tessa glared.
“Move.”
He shook his head.
“My brother is missing.”
He signed:
“And if you walk out alone, they may take you too.”
“Who is they?”
He stared at her.
Then finally answered.
“My family.”
The word didn’t fit.
Not with the rumors.
Not with the empire.
Not with the men who supposedly obeyed him without question.
Tessa signed:
“I thought you ran the Marquetti family.”
His mouth tightened.
“That is what everyone is supposed to believe.”
He removed his watch.
Turned it over.
Engraved into the metal were initials.
S.R.B.
Not S.M.
Tessa pointed.
“What does that mean?”
Salvatore looked toward the table.
For the first time, he seemed tired.
“Samuel Rafael Bell.”
She stared.
“Your name is Samuel?”
He nodded.
“Salvatore Marquetti was my brother.”
Tessa’s breath stopped.
“What?”
He signed carefully.
“My older brother died fifteen years ago.”
“Then why are you using his name?”
“Because the world needed to believe Salvatore survived.”
Nothing made sense.
He continued.
Their father, Antonio Marquetti, had been shot during an internal war.
Salvatore, the eldest son, was supposed to inherit the organization.
But the real Salvatore died during the same attack.
Samuel had been eighteen.
Deaf since childhood.
Ignored by his father’s soldiers.
Considered weak.
So Antonio’s surviving advisers made a choice.
They erased Samuel.
And turned him into Salvatore.
“You pretended to be your brother?”
He nodded.
“For fifteen years?”
Another nod.
Tessa stared at him.
“That’s why you never speak.”
His face changed.
Not anger.
Pain.
He signed:
“My voice would expose me.”
Tessa’s throat tightened.
So the famous silent mafia boss wasn’t silent because he was arrogant.
He was silent because speaking could reveal a fifteen-year lie.
Then she understood Dany’s words.
The ledger with his real name.
Proof.
Someone at Bellavita had found it.
Someone was using Dany because he saw it.
Tessa stepped closer.
“Who knows?”
Salvatore’s hands moved once.
“My uncle.”
“Which uncle?”
His expression darkened.
“Victor Marquetti.”
Tessa had heard that name.
A respected businessman.
Philanthropist.
Chairman of the Marquetti Family Foundation.
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Then Salvatore signed:
“He is also the man who killed my brother.”
